


a curious speck

by lilabut



Series: illuminate the heart [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby Fic, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Romance, Sexual Content, There is no plot, and a hint of angst, this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first year of their son's life comes with many ups and downs, many milestones and even more smiles.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> <br/>This is a three-part sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5900419/chapters/13602067"><b>illuminate the heart</b></a>. I have included a brief recap of that fic in case you haven't read it or have forgotten what happened. Since this story is just one big ball of fluff, you don't necessarily need to read the longer fic that preceded it, although I recommend it to understand the details better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title taken from _Jupiter_ by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> A short recap of _illuminate the heart_ : Daryl and Carol, who have known each other briefly in high school, have a one night stand. When Carol, a divorced single mother, finds out she is pregnant, her and Daryl navigate the upcoming changes in their lives while dealing with the shadows of their respective pasts. As the months pass, the two develop a close friendship and eventually fall in love. After Carol has an accident at home, their son is born safely.

make my messes matter.  
make this chaos count.  
let every little fracture in me  
shatter out loud.

 

 _Jupiter_ , Sleeping At Last

 

**the first month.**

 

 _Can I please carry him inside?_ Sophia is bouncing up and down in the backseat, her pigtail braids fluttering, a glowing flush on her pale cheeks. Even her eyes seem to sparkle like sunbeams on a calm lake.

 

Carol sighs, not quite able to bite away the gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips, as she climbs out of the car. There's still a permanent sting in her bandaged arms, the cuts deep and lashing. She's dreading the scars they will leave behind. The lower half of her body feels oddly numb in comparison, and she steadies herself with a white-knuckled grasp on the passenger door when her sandals meet the crunchy gravel of her driveway. _No, sweetie. It's too heavy, let Daryl carry him._

 

A tiny pout dims the elation and excitement on Sophia's face when she slips out of the car. Smoothing down her rainbow dip-dyed skirt, she exhales in a dramatic sigh. _Oh well._

 

 _You can hold him when we're inside_ , Carol promises, casting a nervous glance at the expanse of the sky above them. It's one white, pale gray mess, the scent of impending rain thick in the cool air. Goosebumps raise on her skin as a breeze tickles her, crawling beneath the thin, burgundy fabric of her yoga pants.

 

 _Come on, kid._ She watches as Daryl pulls the baby carrier out of the car, careful not to swing it too much. _You can help me. Keep him busy._ That almost instantly conjures up an even brighter smile on Sophia's lips, and she's immediately mindful of her task, reaching out to tickle her little brother's chubby cheek. Two tiny eyes are opened wide in curiosity, and a small and delicate hand adorned with five chubby fingers reaches out for his sister's arm, bumping a little uncoordinated into her wrist.

 

 _Y'all right?_ Carol only registers that Daryl was talking to her after a few seconds pass in silence, and when she tears her eyes away from her children, she finds him grinning at her. But beneath that, concern has made itself a permanent home.

 

She nods softly, the sweet heaviness of her heart tying up her throat. With the certainty that any word she tries to utter will only erupt in a rain of happy tears, she keeps quiet. Every one of her steps is a little wavering on the uneven ground, but she keeps her eyes focused on the three people ahead of her, realizing that this house has never felt more like home than it does in this very moment.

 

* * *

 

 _Jesus, why didn't we use a condom?_ Daryl's sleep-riddled groan mingles with the high-pitched wail of their son.

 

Carol snorts halfheartedly into her pillow, her eyelids so heavy that she can barely force herself to open them even a sliver. With only limited control over her exhausted body, she begins to push the blanket off herself, but then she feels the mattress dip as Daryl sits on the edge of their bed.

 

She sends a silent prayer as she watches him stretch his bare arms over his head, the light of the moon that creeps its way into their room through a crack in the thick curtain illuminating his back, giving the scars a milky glow as he cranes his neck. The crack that the movement causes sends a chill down Carol's spine. _You don't have to get up every time,_ she says, her voice hoarse. With one eye cracked open, she watches as Daryl drags himself to the crib at the bottom of their bed, sweatpants low on his hips, bare feet padding on the wooden floor.

 

 _I ain't the one who got cut open,_ he replies, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. _An' I ain't the one whose tits he's gonna manhandle._ The faint edge of sincerity to his mildly annoyed explanation draws a chuckle from Carol's chest, and she shuffles to sit up in bed, her abdomen achy. It only makes her feel more grateful to watch as Daryl gently reaches into the crib, gathering their son in his arm.

 

 _Listen,_ he whispers, holding a flailing bundle of arms and legs in the crook of his arm. _Ya momma an' I would appreciate it if ya just shut it for more than an hour._

 

* * *

 

 _You are so adorable,_ Lori coos, rocking her arms in a gentle motion. A bright smile lights up her face, nose scrunched up, and Carol can't quite remember the last time her friend looked as happy as she does now, holding her son. _Just look at his little nose._ Lori's finger taps against the tip of that nose, tiny like a bean. _And he really has Daryl's eyes._

 

Carol hums in approval, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. A citrous-fresh scent floods in from the open kitchen door, and she feels her mouth water at the thought of the lemon pie in the oven.

 

 _How's Daryl holding up?_ Lori asks, her pinky caught in the tight grip of a tiny hand. Outside, Carl and Sophia burst out in a fit of giggles, momentarily distracting Carol from her friend's question. She watches her daughter run in a circle through the open window, sticking her tongue out at Carl limping after her awkwardly.

 

Tucking her leg beneath her, the sole of her bare foot rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch, she turns back to Lori. _He fell asleep at work the other day,_ she reveals with a grin. _Never would have told me, but Axel sent me a picture._ Lori laughs heartily at that, and Carol just barely resists the temptation of fishing her phone out of her bag. She did promise a red-faced Daryl not to ever show it to anyone, after all.

 

 _But he's doing really great,_ she adds in a softer tone, a warm smile curling her lips and knows Lori does not miss it, a small nod louder than a dozen words.

 

**the second month.**

 

 _He just fell asleep,_ Carol murmurs, smiling gently at Daryl. He's leaning against the door frame of the nursery, his white shirt stained in motor oil, bare feet against the wooden floor, sweat slicking his messy hair to his forehead and temples. The rocking chair she is sitting on moves at a slow and steady rhythm, making no sound.

 

Daryl's steps are light as he crosses the room, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips. _'m sorry._ Carol only shakes her head, smoothing her thumb over the mess of their son's hair. Daryl has been working late all week, three of his guys down with some stomach bug, and she's rarely seen him since the first call came in.

 

 _I left you some dinner in the microwave,_ she says softly, reaching down to tuck her bra and shirt back into place. Daryl only nods, running the tip of his index finger along their son's socked foot – she notices that he scrubbed his hands clean, not a speckle of dirt on them. _You must be hungry._

 

 _I love you,_ he stutters suddenly, stumbling over the words. They take her by surprise every time he gathers the courage to utter them, but now they seem to surprise even him, and they both blush a faint shade of pink.

 

Her hand finds his, fingers falling into place. _I love you, too._

 

* * *

 

He chews on the still warm cookie with much less enthusiasm than it deserves – little bites of dark chocolate melting in his mouth and mingling with the sweetness of maple syrup, making him want to moan – and watches the way Sophia sits stiffly on the couch. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, legs tucked underneath her. She's looking straight through the television screen, a haziness to her eyes that he has not seen in a while.

 

 _Something on ya mind?_ he asks, brushing a few cookie crumbs from his beard. Sophia glances at him briefly, almost nervously, and his stomach drops at that – she has not looked at him like that in months. Not since those curious first days when she opened up to the possibility of him like a flower to the sun, bubbling bright and yet delicate and fragile, her trust something to be earned, not something to be taken for granted.

 

Her eyes fall down into her lap then, where she kneads her small hands. _Daddy's not going to take me away, is he?_ Her words are brittle, almost broken by a tearless sob halfway through.

 

Daryl's eyes widen. _What?_ he exclaims, taken aback by the question and the sheer terror in the little girls eyes, telling him she's terrified enough to consider it a real possibility. _No, Sophia. He ain't_ , he reassured her, muting the television. The pictures still fly over the screen, offering her a distraction if she needs it.

 

 _I heard mommy yelling at him on the phone yesterday,_ she confesses, and Daryl closes his eyes briefly in defeat. All night he'd held Carol, her angry sobs wrecking her body. He'd tried to soothe the pain away, promising to keep them both safe, drawing is promise into her skin when he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. He'd curled his fingers into hers and held her close, wrapped his arms around her when she fed their son. But none of it had brought on any success, and she'd woken this morning with blood-shed eyes and a stiffness to her bones that cracked and popped when she moved.

 

 _I don't want to live with him._ A silent tear trails down her cheek, and Daryl takes a deep breath to calm himself. He hasn't even realized that his hands have curled into white-knuckled fists. The last thing Sophia needs is a reminder of the very anger and violence she so fears in her father.

 

 _Sweetheart, you're going to stay right here, don't worry,_ he tries reassuring her with a calm voice, not making a move to scoot closer or take her hand. Instead, he maintains the distance she once set for them, which she still only rarely breaches.

 

She wipes her tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, sniffling quietly. _I wish he wasn't my daddy._ The words tremble and she looks frightful, almost as if speaking them out loud was a sin and she's awaiting the punishment.

 

She deserves no punishment, could wish death upon the son of a bitch who dares calling himself her father. He's done the same thing, he remembers, every night when he was a kid. Laying on his shitty bad on his stomach as his back leaked blood and fluids with nothing to soothe it but a lukewarm towel. Wishing and pleading to a God he didn't believe in for someone to come and take him away. For a new family to take him in. A father who would be proud of him. A mother. Just a mother. But each morning he woke again realizing nothing ever came of it. Awakening to the same old pain and the same old desire. _I know,_ he sighs bitterly.

 

He hasn't felt this pain since the day his old man died. The realization haunts him, but he pushes his own demons away. He'll allow them to come crawling out of the shadows at night when Carol is asleep by his side, when she can't see the echo of tears in his eyes and the shadow of dead souls and phantom pains never quite letting him be.

 

Sophia turns then, lips quivering as she sighs. _I wish_ you _were my daddy._

 

Something overwhelms him in this moment, and he feels reminded of the moment the nurse handed him the bundle that held his son. A surge of warmth that floods him, so sweet it's almost painful. He has no bloody clue what to say, so he says the only thing that comes to mind, the one thing he knows is true, no matter what. _I wish you were my kid._

 

* * *

 

 _Carol look!_ She looks up from her book at Daryl’s excited gasp. Next to her, he's got one of his large, work-calloused hands around their son's round belly, tiny bare feet with ten miniature toes balanced on his lap. The other is supporting his small head, the tuft of hair beginning to grow thinner by the minute. The blue sailboat polo-shirt is bunched up, revealing chubby, pale legs and a pattern bodysuit. Carol chuckles as a sweet sound bubbles from their son's throat.

 

(Daryl dressed him this morning when she was in the shower, and she was surprised that he chose that shirt, considering how vocal he'd been about his dislike of it when Lori gave it to her the week before. _I ain't got a fucking polo shirt. He's a baby. We gonna sign him up for golf classes next?_ )

 

 _He's smilin'!_ Daryl proclaims, bouncing his knees ever so slightly. Sophia is peaking up from behind her schoolbook, curious eyes landing on her little brother.

 

Carol laughs sweetly, watching mesmerized as Daryl’s face becomes completely entranced with the toothless sort-of-smile directed at him.

 

 _I don't think he is, Daryl._ She leans over to poke a finger into her son's belly playfully, leaning her cheek on Daryl's shoulder.

 

 _Hell yes, look at him!_ His almost bubbling excitement is contagious that she finds herself believing that he might be right. No matter what, it's too sweet a sight to ignore, and she closes the book, tucking it behind her on the sofa. With a chuckle she presses a kiss to Daryl's exposed arm, sighing contently.

 

**the third month.**

 

_Ya really sure?_

 

Carol groans in frustration, throwing her head back into the pillows. She's still flushed from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, all of her bare skin tinted in a feverish hue of red, sweat gleaming in the dips of her hipbones and the hollows of her collarbones.

 

Her too-sensitive nipples press into Daryl's chest, brushing over the sparse hair there, sending tiny pin pricks of pain through her. _Yes, Daryl!_ she half pleads, half moans, sneaking her hand between them to curl around his hard length. He's warm and smooth in her palm and his hips jolt forward at her touch.

 

 _Fuck, Carol,_ he drawls, burying his face in the crook of her neck, panting into the sweat-slicked skin. His hands are curled around her waist, holding her flush against him. _I want ya._

 

His words send shivers down her spine, and once more she feels the coil in her lower belly tighten. _Then do it,_ she urges him, wrapping one leg around his hip, her foot falling into place against his thigh. Her lips suck at his drumming pulse point as her hand sets a steady rhythm, stroking him until his thumbs dig almost painfully into the smooth skin of her middle.

 

 _Just wanna-_ he starts, a deep groan roaring in his chest when she lifts her hips up and slides herself against him. She's soaked now, and she feels she might implode oi he doesn't stop worrying soon. _Ya sure?_

 

Withdrawing her hand from the tight space between them, she grasps his face between her palms, pulls him up to look into his darkened eyes. _Daryl, the doctor gave the okay weeks ago,_ she reminds him, forcing herself with what little will power she still has to remain calm.

 

He swallows deftly, running a calloused palm up her sides to gently cup her breast. _I know,_ he sighs, avoiding her gaze. _Ain't that._

 

Craning her neck, she captures his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he grants her entrance with a trembling groan. Her fingers slide around his neck and into the sweaty tangles of his hair, pulling just slightly, enough to feel him shudder against her. Rolling her hips ever so slightly, she feels him nudging her right where she wants him, nearly dusty memories setting her blood on fire.

 

 _It's okay,_ she whimpers into the kiss, too desperate now to feel him inside her. All she can think about is how treasured she felt when he undressed her, how loud her silent prayers were that the baby monitor wouldn't interrupt the languid kisses he offered. His hands skimming along her ribs and thighs, fingers delving into her, coaxing her open, his lips and tongues tracing her, drawing muffled moans from her before she finally crested that final wave, her back arching painfully off the bed, feet digging into the mattress, hands clawing at the sheets. _I love you,_ she sighs into his neck when he nods, pushing his hips forward. _I need you._ His hand fumbles until he finds hers, linking their fingers, gripping tightly as he begins to slowly push into her. _I want you._

 

 _Shit,_ he hisses, loosing whatever restraint held him back, burying himself inside her to the hilt in one hard thrust. She gasps his name into his shoulder, her free arm reaching desperately for the edge of the mattress, digging her nails into it for leverage as Daryl takes no pause, withdrawing only to push back into her over and over.

 

It's almost impossible now to stay at least somewhat quiet, and she buries her head in his shoulder so tightly to muffle her moans that she can barely breathe. Daryl's struggle is the same, his grunts against her ear only heightening the electricity that sparks through her veins. He's pounding into her now, and even though she has her feet planted firmly on the bed she can't even attempt to push herself into his rhythm. Stars spark in front of her eyes when she squeezes them shut.

 

Daryl's pelvis is rubbing against her just right, his hand finding her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, sucking the skin above her collarbone between his lips. _Carol,_ he breathes, and it sounds almost like a question. Even if she knew what he wanted she could never answer, not now.

 

It's all she wanted and more than she needed, and as she withdraws her hand from his grasp, she curls her arms around his shoulders, holding him against her. His strong chest against the softness of her breasts and stomach, thighs rough against her own.

 

 _Fuck, Carol, I-_ he stutters the words, trying to work his hand between them to where they are joined, where everything is warm and soaked. There's not enough space and he groans in frustration, slowing his thrusts. Carol whimpers, kissing his shoulder. But he has already made up his mind and she yelps in surprise when he slides his hands beneath her back, gathers her up in his arms and sits back with her in his lap. He's still inside her all the while, but when she sinks down just a bit further from the impact of his unexpected move and he bottoms out inside her, her moan tears through the room.

 

Daryl tries to swallow her cry with a kiss, but he's a second too late. Still, she drowns in the kiss, begins to circle her hip without hesitation, rising and falling until she feels nothing but the glide of him inside her and his tongue tracing her own, his hands splaying over her back and around the shape of her hip.

 

Where Daryl had set a brutal pace before, Carol now moves in a desperate rhythm, her hands clutching at his shoulders to steady herself. Already, her thighs are beginning to get tired, aching as she moves on top of him, and with only a fragment of her brain still under her control, she pries Daryl's hand from her hip and shoves it unceremoniously between them.

 

He catches on quickly, circling his thumb around where she wants him, and the moan that he swallows with his kiss resembles a desperate cry. _Daryl, God!_ she exhales, burying her fingers in her hair when he slides his hand further down, cupping her where he's now thrusting up into her downward movements, and it's all too much.

 

It hits her so suddenly that she completely freezes above Daryl, head thrown into her neck as her back arches. A silent cry tears from her throat, eyes squeezed tightly shut as Daryl nips at the curve of her throat and thrusts up into her, chasing his own release. She can feel herself tightening around him almost painfully, holds his hand in place against her when he finally grunts obscenely into her sweaty skin.

 

The warmth of his release spreads through her, making her feel squirmy inside, and she smiles softly as the last waves of her own pleasure begins to fizz through her system. Breathing heavily, she drags her nails down the nape of Daryl’s neck, and she's damn near certain he's purring against her.

 

 _That was-_ Daryl rasps, sounding like he just ran a marathon. He brushes a kiss over her collarbone, withdrawing his hand from between them to rest it at her lower back, calloused fingertips drawing soothing circles into the aching muscles there.

 

 _Please tell me we're not going to wait another couple of months before we do that again,_ Carol pants, her sight blurry when she opens her eyes again. Daryl huffs in response, pulling her unbelievably closer to him.

 

 _Gotta give me twenty minutes._ They both laugh at that, a bright sound that vibrates through their tired bodies. With a sigh Daryl pulls back, looking at her with dark eyes and a smile smoothing the exhaustion off his face. _I love ya._

 

The kiss that follows is gentle, almost chaste, and Carol feels herself growing slack in his arm. _I love you, too. But my leg's cramping, so we need to move._

 

He snorts at that, running a hand up her thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. But he releases her anyway. Carol sinks down onto the bed, stretching like a cat, humming when her joints crack and her muscles relish the range of motion she allows them.

 

Her eyes follow Daryl as he walks over to crack open the window, naked from head to toe with sweat glistening over the expanses of tanned skin, his hair a mess, and her fingers itch to run her hands through the spikes. A breeze of warm but fresh air crawls over her, cooling her overheated flesh. She licks her lips, still tasting Daryl’s toothpaste on them as the early summer scent fills the room, ripe and promising.

 

Looking up, she's surprised to see Daryl's cheeks flushed a deep red, eyes suddenly even darker than before where he has them fixed between her legs. With her knees bent, she must give him quite the show, she muses, knowing exactly what he's staring at. She can feel the sticky warmth of both their releases against the insides of her thigh. A small part of her is ready to allow self-consciousness to win, but she fights it. Drops her knees open a little wider.

 

Daryl groans across the room, fingers balling into fists by his side. _Gonna go get a towel,_ he presses through gritted teeth, but she can see that the twenty minutes he mentioned earlier were a very generous estimation.

 

 _Come here,_ she whispers, sitting up and reaching out her hand towards him. He hesitates for all but one second before he's back across the room, his hips pressing her into the mattress, swallowing the surprised pearl of laughter that breaks from her chest.

 

**the fourth month.**

 

 _Lori is pregnant._ Daryl shifts by her side, the hand that had been smoothing up and down her back halting its journey. _She told me earlier._

 

Carol sighs, looking down at her own fingers toying with the button on Daryl’s shirt. Quiet moments like these are rare, and she cherishes them. Sophia is, for now, busy with her latest drawing, the baby deep asleep in the still slightly rocking crib at the foot of their bed, and she wants to pour herself into this moment. Into napping in Daryl's arms, feeling him close to her, smelling the remnants of motor oil and wood on him. But her mind is too preoccupied, and she knows he would have asked in a few minutes, anyway.

 

 _Didn't see that one coming,_ Daryl admits, sounding genuinely surprised. Carol nods against his chest, running her bare foot up his chin.

 

 _I don't think it was planned,_ she says, weighing her next words carefully on her tongue. _Lori sounded... Well, she sounded a bit like me when I told her I was pregnant._

 

For a moment, Daryl is still and silent, and she knows the words carry weight and have hurt him, at least to some degree. But they are both too aware of how far they have come, and neither of them is naive enough to pretend their start wasn't wobbly and messy.

 

 _Would've been less surprised if they'd gotten a divorce,_ Daryl admits and despite the sting, she knows there is much truth to his words.

 

_I know._

 

* * *

 

_'The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom-'_

 

 _Mommy, he dropped Julie again!_ Sophia exclaims from the back seat, and Daryl groans, shaking his head.

 

 _I swear, next stop I'm nailing the thing to his seat,_ he huffs, and Carol can't stop herself from grinning as she puts the book down in her lap and cranes her neck. Sure enough, the stuffed lamb that Sophia named Julie lies on the dirty floor with its soft limbs sticking out in all directions. Its owner, though, pays its absence no mind, and Carol watches her son for a while as he flails his arms and legs in the car seat.

 

With a sigh she turns back around. The highway stretches on before them in the blistering heat, the air conditioning in the car cooling her overheated skin. Above, the sky is a flawless shade of blue.

 

 _You gonna keep readin'?_ Daryl asks then, drumming his fingers against the wheel. _Was finally startin' to get interesting._

 

Sophia giggles in the backseat, adjusting her too big sunglasses. Her excitement about this trip is palpable, and Carol eagerly picks up the book again.

 

* * *

 

The fresh ocean air is dancing through the growing curls of her hair, the salty scent almost too rich and pure. Carol breathes it in, feels it on her sun-warmed skin. Under the huge umbrella, she is sheltered enough from the late morning sun to enjoy its warmth without enduring the burn it brings, and she feels more content than she ever thought possible.

 

Her skin is still sticky with sunscreen, a few grains of sand stuck to the pale and freckled planes. Beneath her, the fluffy blanket they brought is soft against her bare legs. With her feet propped into the sand, she balances her sleeping son on her legs, taking in the sight of him.

 

Dewy dark blonde hair, his face beginning to form into more distinct features, chubby arms peaking out from his pale bodysuit, swim shorts adorned with smiling crabs in a bright orange curling her lips into a smile. She draws her fingers over his tiny toes, leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

 

Sophia's giggles carry across the beach, and Carol looks up in time to see Daryl pick up her little girl and sprinting into the warm water. Small waves are crashing when they both hit the water with a splash. For a moment, they disappear, and then Sophia comes running out of the water, hair slicked to her head, her yellow bathing suit glowing in the sunlight. Giggling, she makes her way out of the water and back onto the beach, twirling in a circle with her arms stretched wide.

 

Carol snorts when Daryl emerges from the water, shaking his head like a wet dog. The shirt he's wearing is clinging to him like a second skin, and he peels it up just an inch as he follows her daughter, revealing a glimpse of his stomach before pulling it back down hastily.

 

A soft noise draws her attention away from Daryl and Sophia, and she looks down at two blue eyes opening curiously. _Look who is up,_ she whispers, nudging her nose against her son's cheek. It earns her a bubbling noise and she smiles against unbearably soft skin, the scent of sunscreen mixing with baby powder and salt.

 

* * *

 

 _Are you coming to bed?_ Carol asks quietly, mindful of the two sleeping children as she leans against the balcony door of their hotel room. Her arms are crossed just beneath her breasts. She is wearing one of Daryl’s shirts, the steady ocean breeze tickling her as it causes the fabric to flutter against her thigh.

 

Daryl hums, but does not turn to face her. He's standing at the bannister, looking out at the expanse of the beach and the ocean beneath, the moon reflecting in a full circle from the surface of the water. Gentle waves crash against the shore at a steady, soothing rhythm, and Carol fights her fatigue and steps out onto the cool tiles.

 

Her fingers eventually curl around the bannister by his side, and his silence makes her uneasy. Something about him seems tense when she watches him from her peripheral vision, a gloom to his eyes that she longs to wipe away. _Is everything okay?_

 

He faces her then, blue eyes wide open. _Y'ain't got a damn clue._ Carol is confused for all but a second before his warm hands cup her cheeks and his lips press against hers. In the sweet despair of the kiss, she understands.

 

**the fifth month.**

 

 _Jesus, who the fuck's supposed ta eat all this food?_ He eyes the big table in front of him with furrowed brows, the nearly endless rows of meats and salads, grilled vegetables, potatoes, cakes, muffins, snacks and drinks seems excessive to say the least.

 

 _I'm sure you'll manage,_ Carol quips, smiling up at him. She's looking damn pretty today with her hair all frizzy and curly, spiking up behind her ears, her lips shining with some gloss she put on, lashes looking even longer from whatever she smeared on them this morning. But it's the dress that's got him all hot and bothered even in the damn heat. A blue summer dress, ending just over her knees, showing off her calves and her feet and her skinny, freckled arms (she hates the scars on her lowers arms, he knows it, always trying to kiss her insecurities away – the same way she does with him). The same damn dress she wore that day when- _I saw Rick fleeing outside, maybe you could keep him some company_ , she interrupts his thoughts, a knowing smirk haunting her face before she nods to the back door with a more solemn expression.

 

 _What? An' talk about his feelings?_ he asks a little helplessly, grabbing a greasy chicken wing from the buffet and nibbling on it. No way in hell Lori made these herself, he thinks, remembering the god awful dinner a few weeks back.

 

 _Just drink a beer with him, Daryl,_ Carol urges him, blue eyes pleading. _Please._

 

He groans, throwing the bone into a waste bucket beneath the buffet. _Sure._ Wiping his mouth with an appropriately Fourth-of-July-themed tissue, he takes a look around, the room filling with even more people, making him feel caged in.

 

 _I'm going to head out, maybe I can catch up with Jacqui and Andrea,_ Carol explains, putting down her now empty plastic cup of iced tea. _They wanted to take-_

 

 _Mommy, where's Olaf?_ Sophia suddenly jumps into his field of vision (he swears the kid is growing at least an inch every day), her hand curled up in Carl's. He nearly snorts at the sight, but distracts himself with handful of salted peanuts instead.

 

 _Jacqui and Andrea took him for a walk,_ Carol explains, releasing a mildly annoyed sigh. _And I told you before, Sophia. Don't call him that, you'll confuse him when he gets older._ Chewing away on his peanuts, Daryl watches as Carol scolds her daughter with a calm voice, the little girl only squaring her shoulders in response. This is new. The standing up to Carol part. The standing up to anyone part. It's good, he decides, but he's also determined to keep that opinion to himself. _He has a name._

 

 _I don't like his name,_ Sophia declares, dragging a confused Carl away from them and into the crowd of people.

 

 _Yeah, have fun with that,_ Daryl snorts, leaning down to press a kiss against Carol's cheeks. She looks so taken aback that he can't help but grin. _'m gonna go find Rick._

 

* * *

 

 _You two look really happy together,_ Jacqui says with a compassionate smile, pushing the stroller along the sidewalk. Carol feels her cheeks heat up, looking down at her red-painted toes.

 

 _I am_ , she admits, and it feels strange to say that out loud and meaning it after pretending to be happy for so many years.

 

 _Really didn't see all this coming,_ Andrea admits, running a hand through her blonde hair and readjusting her sunglasses before reaching a hand into the stroller and tickling a tiny bare foot. _But I'm glad. You deserve it._

 

They walk in silence together for a little while longer beneath the shade of the large trees, listening to the leafs ruffling in the wind, the faint sounds of other parties and laughing children carrying on the wind. It's a happy day, she realizes. Most of her days are happy now, and it's a terrifying thought, an idea so fragile that she feels almost obliged to wrap it in thick, fuzzy cotton and never let go, never share it.

 

It's a fear she must learn to let go of.

 

* * *

 

 _Did'ya have to wear that damn dress?_ A shiver runs down her spine when Daryl rasps the words into her ear. She did not even hear him stepping up behind her. She swallows, looking down at his hands as he wraps them around her stomach. To everyone else on the porch, it looks innocent enough, but her minds takes a roller coaster ride, the heat of the summer day suddenly almost impossible to endure.

 

 _It's my favorite,_ she replies, a wicked grin twitching at the corners of her lips. Nobody is paying them any attention, everyone too busy with their own conversations or watching the children play on the rich lawn.

 

Daryl presses a kiss to the base of her neck, the short hairs there rising instantly in response. _'s my favorite, too,_ he confesses, ever so slightly pressing his groin into her. A whimper slips from her lips, but then he takes a step back, putting too much space between them.

 

 _Tease,_ she says with a fake pout, craning her neck just in time to catch him smirking.

 

* * *

 

 _Listen, little man,_ Daryl begs, poking his son's bare stomach lightly. _You really gotta tell me where ya put that fancy hat o' yours before your mom gets home, or she'll kill me._

 

That only earns him a bubbly laughter, two arms and legs reaching and kicking. _Yeah, great. Laugh at me._ Groaning, he takes a look around the nursery, keeping one hand on his son as he takes a step back from the changing table. All sorts of shit is scattered all over the place. But no hat.

 

Carol would strangle him if he lost it. _Listen,_ he repeats, reaching for the fresh diaper. The stench of the one he just threw in the waste basket has become almost normal by now. _Ya mom's gonna think you and I can't be left alone if we lose that fucking hat. Sorry, fuck's a bad word._

 

More giggling, and he rolls his eyes as he lifts a tiny butt off the polka dotted changing mat. _Don't know what's so funny._ A tiny fist finds his finger, and he decided to just screw the damn hat. _Ain't like ya don't have enough of 'em._

 

Leaning forward, he blows a raspberry against his son's tiny round stomach, scrunching his nose when strands of his hair get caught in a tight grip.

 

**the sixth month.**

 

 _Oh, what a sweet baby boy._ Annette has a heartwarming smile on her kind face as she admires the picture on Carol's phone. It's one of her favorites, Daryl holding up their beaming son in nothing but his swim shorts, Sophia grinning over Daryl's shoulder.

 

 _He's very sweet,_ she confirms, adjusting a pillow under Annette's head before reaching for the pills she put on the bedside table earlier before helping her back into bed.

 

 _You must bring him along,_ Annette suggests, reaching for the crystal glass full of iced water. She looks more rested today, but Carol can see the effort she puts into sounding as unfathomed by her pain as she does. _Beth is babysitting quite frequently, you know? I'm sure she'd love to look after him._

 

Carol smiles gratefully, the idea sounding quite promising. It's been a rough couple of weeks now that she's back at work. They are making it work somehow, but it's a patchwork blanket that needs a dozen more stitches than she knows how to make. _Thank you,_ she says, holding out two pills which Annette takes without complaint.

 

 _What a nice thought to have a baby in the house again,_ Annette sighs, pressing the cool glass against the side of her neck. Carol only smiles, reaching for the chart by the bed in silence.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he's still surprised by how easily she can shock him.

 

The movie had been shit, but it didn't matter, not when Lori was looking after the kids and he had Carol for himself for one night. If it had been up to him, they'd just stayed at home and ordered some pizza, but Carol was looking forward to leaving the house without a diaper bag for once. So he'd put on a fresh shirt and combed his hair and taken her to dinner and a movie like a pair of goddamned teenagers.

 

They are driving in silence now, the guy on the radio going on and on about the damage caused by the storm earlier this week, and Daryl remembers he still needs to buy a few new roof tiles to replace the broken ones with when suddenly Carol’s hand reaches across the seat and clever fingers pull down the zipper of his pants.

 

 _Fuckin' hell!_ he gasps, eyes nearly blowing out of his skull as he struggles to keep the car on the empty, dark road. _Ya tryin't to get us killed?_

 

 _Pull over,_ she insists, a devious smile evident in her voice. He does so immediately, all his blood rushing South already, anyway. Killing the engine, he turns to look at Carol, the overhead light casting a harsh glow. _You know,_ she begins, a slow laziness to her voice that he's never heard before. He grunts when she sneaks a hand into his open pants, cupping him through his underwear. _I never had sex in a car before._

 

She's suddenly in a hurry then, and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when she shimmies out of her pants and underwear, kicking them off hastily before climbing into his lap. The light has gone out by now, bathing them in nothing but moonlight. Her skin glows, almost translucent if not for the flush that spreads from the dip of her shirt up her neck and into her cheeks.

 

He finds her lips in a searing kiss, never quite believing his luck when he gets to hold her like this. Her hands make quick work of shoving down his pants, just enough to pull him out, running a warm hand up his scorching flesh. _Fuck,_ he hisses when she sinks her teeth into his lower lip, sinking down on him so quickly that his hands curl around her waist to still her for a second. _Careful,_ he whispers, but she only giggles – actually giggles, and fuck it if he doesn’t feel like the teenager he never was right now – before dragging her nails over his abdomen.

 

He throws caution to the wind then, planting his feet firmly on the ground to thrust up into her, her moans and his own heavy breathing filling the car as the windows begin get foggy. Sneaking a hand between them, he pulls her shirt and bra down enough to expose a pert, dusty nipple, taking it between his teeth until she whines above him, her hips drawing languid circles.

 

When it's over, she rests her head against his shoulder, sighing contently. _Glad we tried that._

 

He barks out a laughter, feeling himself slowly soften inside her, his fingertips following the ridges of her spine where he's sneaked his hand under her shirt. _Better get going before we get busted._

 

* * *

 

 _Rick asked me if I was gonna ask you to marry me._ Daryl's words take Carol by surprise, and she looks up from the laundry she's been folding. He is standing in the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, eying her almost curiously but with an underlying sense of insecurity she has not seen in a while. _That something you wanna do?_

 

For a moment, she imagines it. Her in a white dress. Him in a suit. Matching rings on their fingers. How it would change their lives – she comes up empty. How would their lives be different? _I don't know,_ she says quietly, picking up a whole bunch of miniature socks and beginning to sort through them. _I don't think so, no._ She speaks the words with hesitation, not quite sure how he'll take them. They've never discussed this before. _Do_ you _want to get married?_

 

He shrugs, taking a step into the room. Downstairs, Sophia is telling a story to her little brother, her words embellished and theatrical. _Never really thought about it._

 

_But you're thinking about it now?_

 

He stops in front of her, picking at the worn ironing board. _Not until Rick asked._ Confusion is evident in his voice, and Carol feels the urge to calm him down itching in her fingertips. Nothing has to change. Putting down a pair of teddy bear socks, she steps around the board, curling her arms around his neck.

 

 _I love you,_ she tells him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. _But I don't know if... Thoughts_ of Ed invade her mind, sharp-edged and merciless. The wedding dress he'd torn from her body. The suit he'd barely shoved off his own body before... _Maybe one day._ Her voice is sweet like a promise she can't make, but Daryl seems to understand. Most days, she is convinced he can see her struggles in her eyes. His hands fall into place at her waist, and he nods.


	2. part two

**the seventh month.**

 

_Maybe I'd get it if y'actually talked to me 'bout your shit!_ Daryl's words holler through the room, and he despises himself for raising his voice. In this moment the sound of it reminds him of an echo of his father. He can practically taste the burning of liquor and the ash of cigarettes on his tongue. Feel the slicing pain of a leather belt lashing across his back. Hear his mother cry and himself weep.

 

Carol stands her ground, only barely flinching, her arms crossed defiantly in front of her chest. It's heaving with every exhausted breath she takes. _Oh, because you talk about own shit so much, right?_ The spite in her voice has him teetering on the edge of exploding again, the tension that has built between them all week finally reaching a breaking point.

 

_That ain't remotely the same,_ he hisses through gritted teeth.

 

_Isn't it?_ Her expression softens a little, anger smoothing away into a sad sort of frustration. _What's there to talk about, Daryl? You know what he did, you know why this is hard for me. Do I need to spell it out for you?_ Flinging her long arms helplessly through the air, Carol takes a step backwards, leaning her hip against the changing table. There's venom in her words and tears brimming in her eyes and suddenly he wants to take back everything he has said. _Is that what you want? He said nasty things to me and I believed him._ He swallows, watching as the storm inside of her unfolds and lashes out in icy cold waves. _He beat me. He raped me. There. Does it make a difference?_ His throat is tied up, each intake of air struggling to make it into his lungs. _You knew all that._ Silent tears are streaming down her face now, shiny trails along flushed, pale cheeks.

 

_Carol-_ his voice breaks and he can't even think of the right thing to say. He'd been so helpless in trying to figure out why she'd been so distant lately. That was the sole reason he even brought this up. Never in a million years had he expected to cause such an avalanche of long buried pain.

 

_Don't,_ she hissed, crossing her arms again. _You never talk about what happened to you, and don't tell me it doesn't make a difference._ Despite her words, despite what he just forced from her unknowingly, there is no hint of accusation in her voice. She's crying silently, though, and he wishes they could go back to yelling at each other. _We both have issues. Just don't pretend that mine are the ones that make things difficult,_ she mutters on a chokes breath, pushing past him into the hallway.

 

The bedroom door falls shut and Daryl stands in the empty nursery, fingers fidgeting by his side.

 

 

 

 

He's glad that he's the one to pick up the kids from their play date at the Grimes' place. The fifteen minute drive gives him some time to breathe and clear his head. The wind rushing in from the open windows laps at a salty, wet trail on his cheek and Daryl wipes the unexpected tear away harshly.

 

He fucked up.

 

In his head, he can hear his old man as clear as the last time he saw the bastard alive. _Y'ain't worth a damn thing. Y'always fuck up. 's who you are._

 

 

 

Carol is laying on her side, her head buried in the pillow. With a sigh, Daryl shuts the bedroom door, allowing it to fall into place softly.

 

He'd heated up some leftovers for Sophia and himself after they got back, got her and her brother ready for bed and tucked in. Fed his son with a bottle, humming softly until he fell asleep. Read Sophia a story. Kissed her goodnight. The bedroom door had been shut all the while, and he'd not missed the worried gleam in Sophia's eyes when he told her her mommy had a headache.

 

Lying to the little girl felt wrong, but risking her trust seemed like the worse option.

 

Silently, he undresses in the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table, dumping his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. He'll do that tomorrow. Anything to make up for what he did.

 

Climbing into bed, he lies flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He'd briefly considered sleeping on the couch or on the chair in the nursery. But if there's any chance he can fix his mistake, he'll take it. And he won't fix it by staying away.

 

Carol surprises him then, just as she always does. She shifts ever so slightly by his side, reaching behind herself to find his hand. Her fingers are soft and smooth from the lotion she uses every night, and they slip in between his easily. Gently, he grasps them, terrified of her pulling away again. But instead of that, she tugs a little at his arm, pulling him towards her instead.

 

With a heavy exhale, Daryl turns onto his side, his front flush against her back. His head finds a resting place in the crook of her neck, the minty scent of their toothpaste mingling with the saltiness of dried tears. Carol pulls his arm around her middle and their clasped fingers come to rest on the thick comforter.

 

_'m sorry,_ Daryl whispers into her neck, nudging his nose against the curls of her hair. _Didn't mean to blame ya._ He really never intended for that, only burst the way he did because he felt like his hands were tied.

 

_I know,_ Carol rasps, her voice hoarse and marred by her tears. Her thumb smooths over the back of his hand shyly, almost as if she's trying to soothe him.

 

For a moment, Daryl simply holds her, cradles her against him. She suddenly feels small and frail in his arms, when she is usually so strong and steadfast, a force of nature. The reality of how fragile she is and how brittle the walls she puts up is always there glimmering in her clear eyes, but it's rare she actually allows him to _feel_ it. _I can't,_ he chokes out, even the mere thought of opening up about his childhood making him feel caged. _Can't talk about it._

 

She nods slightly, her breathing still labored. _Maybe..._ She trails off, suddenly sounding hesitant. He waits patiently, not about to make the mistake of talking a little too much again anytime soon. _I think we should get help._

 

Daryl has to process the suggestion for a moment, her words replaying in his head. He's tired and exhausted and all he really wants is to fall asleep like this, pretending that all is well. But if today has shown him anything it's that they're both pretending that all is well a little too much. _Like a shrink?_ he asks, not sure if he wants to sound as frightened as he does.

 

_Hmm,_ Carol murmurs in affirmation, squeezing his hand a little tighter. _Not talking about it isn't the right way, Daryl. I..._ Her entire body tenses, he can feel it from her calves up her spine and into her shoulder. Slowly, he reaches up with his free hand and rests it on the pillow above her head, running his fingers in slow circles through her hair. _Some days I think I might actually want to marry you one day,_ she begins, and even though he can't see her face he can tell that she's crying again. Her words ignite something in him, though. He'd meant it when he said he never really thought about marriage. If she didn't want it, that was fine. But the idea that she might actually consider it suddenly erases all his fears for all but one second. Then she continues.

 

_But then I get so afraid that it's going to be like last time, that you're only going to let me down._ She shifts against him, wiping her tears away before they soak into the pillow. _Some days I'm scared to leave you alone with Sophia because... because I'm afraid to trust you enough._ The sting that shoots through his heart like a bolt brings tears to his eyes, tears he desperately tries to hold back because this is her pain, not his. All of this, he should have known. But lately, he took her trust and her happiness for granted. _Sometimes when you make love to me..._ She gulps in a shuddering inhale, grasping his hand so tightly that her nails dig into the flesh of his palm. _I still hear him, and I feel him and it's like I'm suffocating._

 

He doesn't know what to say. Instead, he presses his lips to the back of her neck, pulls her closer. She comes apart then, her body going slack in his arms. _Come 'ere,_ he whispers, pressing her to his chest, hoping that she can feel his heart beating against her ribs. Making no promises that everything will be better (because he can't promise a damn thing he can keep, and he can't fill the cracks left in her heart), he simply holds her together. His own tears are lonely and without witness, and they burn on his skin.

 

Her words echo in his mind, branded there like yet another scar, even when her breathing evens and she falls into a merciful sleep. After her confession, his own dark secrets claw their way into the light out of the abyss in his heart. How he still has to force himself to allow her to touch his scars, how her fingers on them make him feel ugly and unworthy. How he's still ashamed of them, no matter what she does to try and prove him otherwise. How sometimes when she leans in to kiss him unexpectedly, he still feels the urge for a splint second to flinch away, a deeply rooted fear driving him that her touch might be anything but tender.

 

* * *

 

_I don't know,_ Rick sighs, adjusting his sunglasses. They look a bit ridiculous but Daryl decides not to say anything about it, instead keeps pushing the stroller down the brand new bicycle lane. Around them, the fields expand, not a single soul there to disturb them. _It's like Lori's pretending that everything is all right. Like we didn't have problems before._ Rick hesitates, clearly chewing on his next words. _Like this kid's gonna fix us. I mean, I'm happy. We always wanted more kids but we made the mistake of waiting for the right time. There’s never a right time to have kids._ Another pause and Daryl drums his hands on the handle of the stroller, eyes drifting between his sleeping son and the rich golden fields surrounding them. _But this feels like the wrong time._

 

Rick has his eyes focused on the dusty path, fingers curled around his belt. _You tell her that?_ Daryl asks, a little lost in this type of conversation. He's never had any buddies before who wanted to talk about their failing marriages to him. Lord knows he's no expert. His mind briefly drifts to the fight with Carol two weeks ago and the upcoming appointments they'd made as a result.

 

_What's the point?_ Rick shrugs, sounding sorrowful. _Baby's coming, one way or the other. And it won't fix us._ There's a defeat to his voice that's almost upsetting, but Daryl bites back any judgmental comment. It's not his place and he's only known Rick and Lori for a short while. Long enough to see how much they care about each other, long enough to see that they once might have loved each other, but not long enough to figure out if what they still have is enough.

 

_Did ya talk to Shane about that?_ he asks, figuring it's a safe option. After all, the man is Rick's best friend, has been all his life as far as he knows. _I mean, you guys have known each other forever. I ain't the best person to ask. Sure, the little man here wasn't planned, but he's the best damn thing that's ever happened to me._ Rick smiles at that, his sunglasses hiding the undoubtedly bitter expression in his eyes.

 

_Shane's being... distant lately._ Daryl furrows his brows at that, waiting. He hasn't seen Shane in weeks, and he's never really cared much about the guy. They got along, but that was that. Rick kicks a pebble into the field with the toe of his boot, and they both watch it disappear in the distance. _Don't know what's up with him. He always seems angry but I don't know why. Every time I try talking to him...,_ Rick shakes his head, and Daryl feels sorry for the weight the guy must carry. To most, he always looks like he has it all together. Perfect job, perfect family. But once you really start getting to know him, all that crumbles away pretty rapidly.

 

_'m sorry,_ Daryl offers, admitting his own defeat in not being able to say anything more constructive.

 

_All this damn talking, I never bothered,_ Rick scoffs, and Daryl nods with a thin-lipped smile. _And now that I_ want _to talk, they don't want to listen._ He drops the matter after that and they continue to walk briskly down the road.

 

Above them, the afternoon sunlight breaks through the white clouds every once in a while. Daryl watches as his son begins to stir in the stroller, thick fingers fumbling with his shirt. It doesn't take long after that for two marvelously big, blue eyes to look up at them and a series of incoherent mumbles to bubble from his tiny mouth. _I guess someone wants to talk after all,_ Rick jokes, reaching into the stroller to nudge the baby's cheek. _Hey, little man._

 

* * *

 

_Can't say I'm all that sad I never had birthday parties as a kid. That was a fucking nightmare,_ Daryl groans exhaustively, leaning against the door frame.

 

_Language!_ Carol scolds him, yet unable to suppress the slight grin that ghosts over her face. She disposes of the dirty diaper, avoiding the two small feet aiming for her stomach.

 

_Sorry,_ Daryl mutters, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

_The kids loved it, that's the point,_ Carol states cheerfully, reaching for the wet wipes and smiling down at her beaming, overly excited son. _And don't even pretend you didn't like the pizza._

 

That earns her a snorting laughter. _Don't need a bunch o' kids running around to have pizza._ He's quiet as she cleans up their son, humming a random tune. _Sophia's been going on about going to a water park next year,_ Daryl announces then, already sounding annoyed.

 

_Oh dear._ The mere idea of having to restrain a bunch of kids in an overly priced water park has her feeling anxious and tired. _We'll have to try and come up with an alternative before she's too sold on that._ Already her mind is reeling, the wheels spinning and groaning as she tries to come up with a cheaper, less stressful idea to make her daughter happy. To really do something special for her special day.

 

_Stubborn kid._ Daryl grins at her, and she still feels her stomach flutter a little when he does that. She watches as he walks over towards them, leaning down to kiss a head full of dark blonde hair. _Ya better listen to what we're saying,_ he explains to the blubbering baby. _Yeah, keep on chattin',_ Daryl teases, making a silly face. Two small hands reach out and nearly grasp loose strands of his hair. _What'ya goin' on about, huh?_

 

She laughs softly, the stress of the day fading for a brief moment of respite. _Can you dress him?_ she asks then, running her fingers over the soles of her son's feet. _I want to check on Sophia._ It had been a busy day for her, all the presents and other kids draining her energy. But she'd been so happy and excited about all of it, about finally getting a proper birthday party.

 

_Sure, go ahead,_ Daryl nods, reaching for the fresh diaper already. She steps into his space before he can get started, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

 

_I love you,_ she whispers, running her hand over his scruffy cheek and smiling into the kiss.

 

He hums into the touch, pressing his forehead to hers after they part. _Love ya._ With a brief peck to the corner of his mouth, Carol steps away, allowing her fingers to trail down the length of his arm before making her way to the door. She lingers there, watching Daryl and their son for a moment.

 

_Thank you for today,_ she says quietly, her heart full and her eyes nearly brimming with happy tears. Daryl looks up, clearly having expected her to be gone already. For a moment, he looks slightly confused, his palm steadying their son's exploratory athletics. She hesitates for a moment, not wanting to soil this beautiful day. _Ed never would have..._ She sighs, shaking her head, shaking off the unwelcome thought.

 

Daryl only nods, and she turns away with a smile.

 

**the eight month.**

 

_Lizza and Mika are going to be Anna and Elsa,_ Sophia explains to Carl as she adjusts the slightly over-the-top carrot red wig on her head. Carl fumbles a little with the red scarf around his neck, and the two of them make an adorable sight. _And Eliza and Louis will be Luke and Leia. Her mom's doing her hair, it will look beautiful._ Sophia emphasizes the last word, stretching it impossible long as she cocks her hips to the side and admires herself in the mirror.

 

The purple dress she is wearing is beaming, and she runs her fingers over the green scarf. _And I think Sam said he'll be Buzz Lightyear, but Ron didn't want to be Woody._ Carl nods in agreement, looking prim and proper in his white shirt and blue pants, the blonde wig on his hand looking much like straw. _Penny said she'd be a mermaid, with a tail and everything._

 

Sophia is bouncing on her heels now, the awful shiny, purple boots reaching up to her skinny knees. The excitement on her face is glowing, and Carol shakes her head as she watches her daughter. _And you know Meghan's aunt took her all the way to Atlanta to buy a costume? But she wouldn't say what it was. But I'm sure it will be beautiful._

 

_Jesus Christ,_ Daryl proclaims, and Carol turns to look at him. He looks miserable, tugging at the hem of his too-large green shirt. _No wonder Rick's workin' tonight._

 

_Come on,_ Carol laughs, bumping her elbow into his ribs gently. _It's not that bad._

 

_Don't get why we had ta wear them matching costumes,_ he complains, waving his hand at the five of them. _Or why_ we _gotta wear costumes at all. Ain't like I'm gonna ring on anyone's door and-_

 

_You_ have _to be dressed up, Daryl,_ Sophia interrupts him, her hands propped against her hips and a scolding expression on her face. _It's Halloween._ She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Carol tries to stop herself from bursting out laughing as Daryl’s face softens and he visibly cowers under her daughter's stern gaze.

 

_Sure, kid,_ he shrugs. _But ya brother?_ He points down at their son who is sitting on the floor in his costume, bumping two building blocks against each other.

 

_He looks so fluffy,_ Sophia beams, kneeling down to cuddle her brother and playfully pet his head. _He's happy. Look, he's laughing._

 

_He's laughing at everything,_ Daryl snorts, but still the bubbling sound of the baby's laughter seems to erase some of his grimness.

 

_Don't be a spoilsport, Shaggy,_ Carol winks, watching as Sophia picks up her brother and walks back towards Carl to help him adjust his wig. The little boy kicks his legs a little, the dog costume nearly swallowing him whole.

 

Daryl narrows his eyes. _You look ridiculous._ She nearly yelps when, after briefly casting a glance towards the kids, Daryl curls his hand around her waist and pulls her flush against him. _'cept that skirt,_ he breathes into her ear, sending an avalanche of goosebumps and shivers down her spine. He nods down to the horrid red skirt that clashes with the thick, orange sweater she is wearing, her orange stockings matching. His lips press against her pulse point, and Carol feels her knees giving away. _That's kinda hot._

 

They both laugh at that, the sound mingling with Sophia and Carl singing awfully out of tune.  _Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? We've got some work to do now. Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? We need some help from you now._

 

 

 

The old Blake house has been abandoned for almost two decades. The family moved away when Carol still was a child, to some big city, she thinks. The house they left behind, once a real beauty with its huge porches and balconies and extensive land, has suffered over the years. It has fallen apart, weathered by being unused, torn apart by many storms.

 

Over the years, it has become a sore spot in the eyes of most people in the neighborhood, its wild land and rugged appearance casting a shadow on the otherwise pristine area. For others it has become a hideaway. Carol remembers spending more than a few nights here during her school days. And still teenagers use it to smoke without their parents knowing, to drink or party or simple dare each other to break into what is the closest this neighborhood has to a haunted house.

 

Or they come here for _this_ , Carol thinks to herself with a mischievous grin that is lost in the darkness. Her back is pressed against the back of the tool-shed, the wooden planks rotting away, cracking and creaking.

 

_Jesus!_ Daryl pants into the crook of her neck as she hitches her leg further up his hip. The stupid, stiff skirt gathers around her waist and she can feel the hard length of him pressing against her underwear through his pants. _What's got you so worked up?_

 

She rocks her hips against him, seeking friction as her hands clutch around his shoulders. _Nothing,_ she moans, her head falling back against the wall with a thud when Daryl presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her hammering pulse point.

 

His hand sneaks its way under her thick sweater, a calloused palm running over her stomach and up to cup her breast through the cup of her bra. Despite the slightly chilly night, Carol can feel sweat pearling on her flushed skin, and she curls a hand around Daryl's waist to hoist herself up against him.

 

_Ya don't wanna wait 'til we get home?_ Daryl breathes heavily, pulling down the cotton of her bra to brush his thumb over her nipple. _Kids are- fuck,_ he groans, the vibrations of it rumbling in his chest as Carol sneaks a hand between them and fumbles with his belt. She's almost disappointed that he can't see the triumphant grin on her lips. _Kids are gonna be out of there in five minutes._

 

The moment the Morales' had offered the kids to join them in their video project (something they did every year, the kids absolutely over the moon about it) Carol had dragged Daryl away from their front yard. Ignoring his confusing mumbles and overall miserable expression, she'd led him here, hidden away in the dark.

 

_Better hurry up then,_ she whispers huskily into his ear, not quite sure where the tugging in her groin and the ache in her core came from all of a sudden. His lips skim along her neck, his free hand pressing against the wall by the side of her head. He finds her for a deep kiss, and the languid sensation of it sends shivers down her spine, making her knees weak.

 

She gasps when his hand pulls at her wig, tossing it behind himself onto the unkempt lawn. _Hey, what-_ she begins to ask, but Daryl silences her with another kiss, his hands landing on the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up.

 

_Feel like a pervert doin' this when ya wearin' that,_ he mutters as she curls her legs around him, every inch of him pressing against her core.

 

She chuckles at his words, suddenly reminded that they're in full costume, making out like teenagers in the dark. _You're rid-_ she starts, ready to tease him when suddenly one of his hands reaches between them and pulls her underwear to the side, two fingers sinking into her without warning. _Daryl!_ she moans, dragging her nails up the length of his back over the baggy shirt.

 

She writhes in his arms, his thumb circling her as he rocks his hip into the cradle of her thighs, panting into her neck. Impatiently and fully aware that they'll have to get back to the kids sooner rather than later, Carol finishes unbuckling his belt. Burying her hand inside, fingers curling deftly around the base of him, she relishes in the hoarse grunt of her name.

 

For a few moments, she strokes him, a quick rhythm that matches that of his fingers moving in and out of her. But she can't wait much longer, every inch of her aching. Just the thought of having to stop now seems equivalent to imploding, and so she withdraws her hand and pushes at his pants.

 

He comes to her aid quickly, his fingers slipping from her with an obscenely wet sound that seems amplified in the silence of the night. Much less carefully than she would have done, Daryl pushes his pants down his hips. They gather somewhere around his knees but neither of them pays that any attention. With a little shifting around, she can feel the tip of him pressing at her entrance. Dragging her lips along his neck, she tilts her hips forward, nearly whining when he slips inside of her just an inch.

 

For a second, she thinks he's stopped to take a breath and collect himself, but then she notices how stiff he suddenly is.

 

_Did ya hear something?_ he asks quietly, his voice nothing but a hushed whisper.

 

Carol furrows her brows, the night silent except for the occasional laughter drifting their way from the street. _What? No._ She runs her hand under his shirt, clutching his shoulder. _Come on,_ she urges, squeezing her legs around him and pulling him further inside of her. Another inch, another sigh escaping her lips.

 

Daryl's hands move from her thighs to her waist, holding her in place. He's pinning her against the wall with his chest and hips now, not easing her frustration in the slightest. _Seriously, I heard something._

 

_Are you telling me you're scared of the haunted house?_ Carol hisses, and Daryl looks down at her with a mildly offended expression then.

 

_Hell no,_ he scoffs, straightening his shoulders. _Just- fuck!_ He grunts a little too loudly when Carol decides to takes matters into her own hand, curling her arms around his neck and pulling herself against him, causing him to slide into her in one smooth stroke. She slants her mouth over his to silence him, a small sound escaping the back of her throat when all his hesitation and concern seems to melt away and he begins to move.

 

_Shut up,_ she chuckles, gently sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. A shiver runs through his entire body in response, and he repays her easily when he thrusts just a bit faster and with just a bit more purpose, one hand slipping between them. She gasps his name like a prayer, eyes squeezing shut until she sees stars.

 

_You shut up._

 

**the ninth month.**

 

_Don't think I've ever seen 'em so happy around each other,_ Daryl muses, and Carol nods in agreement, watching him look at the gray November sky for a moment before she focuses back on the road.

 

He was right. In the thirty minutes they have spent with Rick and Lori and their brand new baby girl, Carol felt reminded of times long past when the two of them were madly in love, an extension of one another.

 

_It's been a while,_ she sighs, not even the rush of joy quite enough to calm her worries. _I just hope it will last._

 

They drive in silence for a few minutes, the Saturday morning traffic unusually busy. An upbeat song is playing on the radio, and despite the low volume Carol catches herself drumming her fingers against the wheel along with the tune, humming quietly.

 

_Kid's real cute._

 

She nods, smiling at the memory of little Judith sleeping in Rick's arms. _Absolutely precious,_ she agrees. Faintly, she remembers Carl's birth, the fear when Lori had been rushed into surgery, how agitated Rick had been roaming the halls.

 

Her own growling stomach distracts her from the memories of those times. _How do you feel about Chinese for dinner?_ she asks, her mouth already salivating at the thought of spring rolls. _We could try that new place down on Woodbury Road. Jacqui said the food is fantastic. And Sophia would love to go._

 

They'd dropped Sophia and the baby off at the Greene farm before making their way to the hospital, and Carol now steers the car off the main road and onto the dusty path lined by endless fields to pick them up.

 

_Sure,_ Daryl agrees, mumbling under his breath.

 

_Great. Maybe Beth can look after-_ One sideways glance has her words dying on her tongue. Daryl looks distant, staring into the nothingness outside, nervously chewing on his thumbnail. _Are you okay?_

 

He turns to briefly glance at her. _'s nothin'._

 

Slowing down the car slightly, Carol sighs. _Daryl._ They have talked about this, about pretending that everything is fine when it's clearly not. Over and over until neither of them could stand it anymore. But they have improved over the last few weeks, confessing more than they'd previously had the courage to. Sometimes, though, they still slip into old patterns, brushing off small worries and larger problems that are anchored too deep.

 

_Right,_ Daryl mutters, correctly interpreting the tone of her voice. _Was just thinkin'. Do you..._ He's still looking out towards the fields, lost in thought. _Ya ever think about havin' more kids? Some day._

 

His question takes her completely by surprise, and her mind tries to form around the idea of having another baby one day, an idea that has not crossed her mind until now. She wonders what brought this on, whether or not this is something Daryl has been keeping to himself for a while. _I haven't really thought about it,_ she admits, trying not to sound too overwhelmed by the idea. _I love things the way they are now._ It's true. Never in her life has she been as happy as she is now, and she knows, is sure ( _has_ to be certain) that Daryl feels the same. Nothing feels incomplete to her, or unfinished or fractured.

 

_Yeah,_ Daryl agrees, forcing a thin-lipped smile that barely moves his lips. Her heart clenches at the sight.

 

_You want more kids._ It's not a question, and still Daryl shrugs, making a conscious effort not to look at her.

 

_Hell if I know. Never wanted kids in the first place. But..._ He's doing it again, taking his time to morph his thoughts into words, only to drop the matter entirely. _'s okay if ya don't wanna._ The uncertainty is clear in his voice, and she can tell that he is sweating over the idea just as much as she is.

 

Needing to remind herself that all of this – having a family – is uncharted territory for Daryl, and that he is faced with all he never thought was in the cards for him, Carol studied his face. _I don't need any more kids,_ she says then, making sense of the mess in her mind. _But if you do, then we'll talk about it._ Finally, he turns to look at her fully, nodding slightly. _Just not right now?_ she asks quietly and with a tender smile. _He's not even a year old._

 

The farm comes into view just as Daryl chuckles, and the initial weight of the moment passes, thankfully. _Yeah, we ain't old and gray. Got plenty o' time._

 

* * *

 

Everything is blurry and hazy, even behind his closed eyes. Stuck in the shapeless state between sleep and awake, Daryl feels most comfortable, stretching his limp body on the warm sheets.

 

He's not sure what woke him, the lack of light penetrating his eyelids enough to tell him it's still way too early to be awake on a Sunday morning. For a brief moment, he waits for the familiar sounds of his son crying or chatting away happily over the baby monitor, but the only sounds he can hear are the steady ticking of the clock and the rustling of moving sheets.

 

A brief gush of cold air hits him and he makes a disgruntled, low sound in the back of his throat. But then a warm body presses into his side.

 

_Happy birthday,_ Carol breathes against his neck, a shudder running through him as her warm breath ghosts over his skin. Nimble fingers smooth over his stomach, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. He groans when her nails dig into his hipbones, grazing from one side to the other.

 

He's hopelessly lost after that, keeping his eyes shut as he mumbles _good morning_ into the pillow. And all points to Carol intending to make it a _very_ good morning.

 

She can be wicked sometimes, he thinks when she pushes his shirt up and scatters open mouthed kisses all over his twitching stomach and up to his rapidly beating heart, his ribcage aching under the unexpected, early excitement. A grunt escapes him when she _sucks_ , surely leaving a bruise behind before smoothing the skin with her tongue. Her hands curl determinedly around his sweatpants, pulling them down his hips.

 

Daryl kicks them away until they disappear in the sheets, and he can feel himself – hard and ready – pressing against soft, bare skin. Surprised, he opens his eyes, the haziness of sleep not quite washed away. But even that can't hide the fact that Carol is naked, smiling down at him as she straddles his thighs.

 

_Damn it,_ he breathes, dropping his head back onto the pillow when he feels her warm and slick against his thigh. Her fingers curl around him, sending even the last of his blood down south, and he reaches up to dig his fingers into her hips when she begins to stroke him. _Carol._

 

Her only response is a delicate hum. Something washes over her face then, a timid hesitation that seems out of place. But before Daryl can ask, she is scooting further down his thighs, her hand never faltering.

 

When she leans down and presses a kiss to his abdomen, the muscles there contracting from the slight touch, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. No way.

 

_Hey,_ he begins, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. But she just shakes her head with a smile he can feel against his stomach. He wants to tell her that she doesn't have to do that (she has never done this, never tried, never offered and he sure as hell never pushed), wants to tell her a mighty lot of things, but all that does pass his lips is an almost pathetic sound when her lips find him.

 

After that, he doesn't say a thing. But one thought is consistent in his mind, repeating like a mantra when she takes him into her mouth. _happy fucking birthday to me._

 

**the tenth month.**

 

_Daryl!_ Carol's voice carries in from the living room, nearly causing his heart to leap out of his chest. He drops the spoon he'd been holding, splattering deeply red sauce all over the stove and counter top.

 

He's already halfway through the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he nudges his bare toes into the door frame, when Sophia calls for him, too. _Daryl come, quick!_ In his mind, he's painting all sorts of nightmarish visions.

 

_What the-_ he gasps when he hobbles into the living room, freezing when he takes in the picture in front of him. _No way!_ Carol and Sophia are both sitting crossed-legged on the floor, wearing matching pairs of ridiculously fluffy, purple socks. Both of them have their arms spread wide open, their eyes glazed and mesmerized, lips parted as they cheer on the baby currently standing on his wobbly, chubby legs, making one unsteady step after the other. He's butt-naked and cheerful, apparently just as proud of himself as his mother and sister.

 

_He made it all the way from the couch,_ Sophia declares with elation, reaching her arms out towards her brother, prompting him to make his unsteady way towards her. Daryl feels himself freeze, the sight too breathtaking to even move a finger. He watches with baited breath as his son stumbles towards Carol, giggling.

 

_Don't just stand there, get the camera!_ Carol urges him then, the smile on her face brighter than anything else could ever be.

 

He spins on his heels, suddenly reminded that he probably broke a toe or two, heading out into the hallway to grab the camera from her bag. A ton of shit is send flying out onto the floor – hairbrush, lip balm, her wallet, a half-empty bottle of juice, sunglasses – before he finally finds the camera.

 

It's turned on and recording when he races back to the living room. But all he catches is Carol and Sophia shaking their heads, smiling at the baby now sitting on his butt, knocking his fluffy dinosaur toy against his belly.

 

_This is a joke, right?_

 

* * *

 

_'A mouse took a stroll through the deep, dark wood.'_

 

_I swear, if this mouse takes one more walk through the goddamned wood, I'm gonna-_ Daryl's low, muttered complaint ends abruptly when Carol bursts out laughing. Leaning against his chest, she turns her head to catch his grumpy expression, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

_They love it,_ she whispers, nodding towards the couch. Sophia is sitting there crossed-legged in her brand new unicorn pajamas, bouncing her brother on her lap as she recites the story unfolding – for the tenth time this week – on the TV screen.

 

_Little too much,_ Daryl scoffs, but he tightens his arms further around her stomach, resting his chin on her shoulder. _We definitely ain't getting' that puppy we talked about. She's gonna be hellbent on calling it Gruffalo._

 

Smiling, Carol leans into the embrace, Daryl's legs bracketing her own.

 

_'He has terrible tusks. And terrible claws. And terrible teeth in his terrible jaws.'_

 

It's a perfect, lazy sort of morning. Outside, the sun has just risen, a hazy orange glow reflecting off the thin layer of snow that has blanketed the garden over night. It glistens, and the fairy lights strung all over Sophia's tree house sparkle in the dim light. Carol takes a deep breath, running her hands up and down Daryl's arms. Everything still smells of chocolate chip pancakes and their steaming mugs of hot cocoa on the ground by their side.

 

_'He has knobbly knees. And turned out toes. And a poisonous wart at the end of his nose.'_

 

The Christmas tree is the only source of light in the room except for the screen, heaps of hastily torn off wrapping paper littered around it. Presents are strewn left and right, some already opened and others abandoned.

 

Daryl is drawing a circle on her stomach with the pad of his thumb, and she giggles in response, the ticklish sensation causing her to squirm in his embrace. _Stop that,_ she says quietly, gently swatting at his hand. He does, turning to press a chaste kiss to the side of her neck.

 

_Didn't think she'd be quite so excited 'bout them pajamas._ Daryl intertwines their fingers in her lap, his breathing even and calm. They'd both had the last few days off, and the calm and serenity of those days spent with the children is palpable in the air.

 

_Told you,_ Carol reminds him, smiling as she watches her daughter brush a kiss on her little brother's head.

 

_'His eyes are orange. His tongue is black. He has purple prickles all over his back.'_

 

Outside, more snow begins to fall to the ground in slow, swirling motions.

 

_I had too much food,_ Carol groans, feeling stuffed and lazy and still a little hazy from being ripped out of sleep by a bouncing Sophia. Daryl chuckles, poking the slight swell of her stomach.

 

_'Good? Don't call me good. I'm the scariest creature in this wood. Just walk behind me and soon you will see: everyone is afraid of me.'_

 

The gentle, mindless talk of their son mingles with the narration.

 

_Y'ain't as big as last Christmas._

 

_I was pregnant last Christmas!_ Carol exclaims with mock outrage, twisting in Daryl’s arms so she can look at him. He's grinning, a flush on his cheeks. He looks younger, calmer, more relaxed, almost as if he's finally starting to accept that this is real. All of it.

 

She smiles then, heart swelling with the thought of how special she and the children are to him. Leaning in to steal a quick kiss, she's surprised when Daryl deepens it, cradling her head in his hand.

 

_'All was quiet in the deep, dark wood.'_

 

* * *

 

The sky is burning, alive with a whole spectrum of colors, sparkling lights that explode and grow and fade, raining down on them like shooting stars.

 

Carol hums contently, nuzzling further into his side. He tightens his grip around her waist, running his hand in small movements up and down to keep her warm. In front of them, their breaths turn into mist, fingers numb and the grass beneath their boots covered in thick snow.

 

He turns his head to look through the open door into the living room where Sophia and Carl have fallen asleep on the couch, completely unfazed by the explosions in the sky. Lori is upstairs with the babies, and Rick is bustling around in the kitchen, putting away glasses and snack bowls.

 

_Happy new year._ Looking down at Carol when she whispers the words, he sees pink fireworks reflecting in her eyes. Her smile tugs at his heart, content and quiet, lazed with so much serenity that he wants to take this moment and hold on to it.

 

They meet in a soft kiss, noses nudging gently into each other, the promise of a new year together lingering in the minimal space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally meant to be a two-part story. But this just kept on getting longer and longer, so I decided to split it into three chapters instead. 
> 
> I got a little bit carried away with the Halloween/Scooby Doo part - sorry about that *facepalm*


	3. part three

**the eleventh month.**

 

Dropping a kiss to the messy top of her son's head, Carol pushes herself away from the couch with an exhausted sigh. Her shoulders ache as she crunches them up to relieve some tension, and the soles of her feet are sore even in her comfortable sneakers.

 

Sophia keeps on reading the story to her little brother, balancing him on her lap. With a content smile, Carol wanders over to the kitchen, the smell of dinner still thick in the air and her empty stomach growls in response. Daryl is scrubbing vigorously at a casserole dish, turning his head when he hears her approach.

 

She kisses the tight-lipped smile off his face, lingering in the kiss for a few seconds. He smells of onion and dish soap and she'd love nothing more than to curl up on the couch with him and eat the leftovers she spots neatly packed away in a plastic box on the counter.

 

_How's Annette?_ he asks when he pulls out of the kiss, continuing to scrub at the stubborn bits of burnt cheese that cling to the dish.

 

_Worse,_ Carol sighs, her soul feeling heavy as lead as the last few days at work flash through her mind. _I don't... She's worse._ It feels wrong to consider, but in the back of her mind Carol is beginning to worry about having to find a new job soon. Now that everything is working out so well.

 

_'m sorry,_ Daryl mutters, sounding crushed.

 

 

 

Carol leans her hips against the counter, fingers drumming anxiously against the stone. _Hershel keeps telling her it'll all be fine. He's telling the kids, too. I'm worried about them._ Tears dwell in her eyes and she blinks them away. Her breathing, a little strained and too forced, however, gives her away.

 

Daryl sets down the casserole dish and the sponge, wiping his hands on a dishcloth before stepping in front of her. She's trapped between him and the counter, and his warmth radiates through the layers of their clothes, comforting her instantly. _Can't help everybody, Carol,_ he whispers right before pulling her against him. Strong arms wrap around her and lips press against the crown of her head. Her own fingers curl into his shirt, her cheek pressed against his heart.

 

_I know,_ she sighs, allowing the peace of the moment to take over for a while. Daryl's hands soothe up and down her spine before eventually resting at her waist. _How are you?_ Carol asks then, the question having burned on her tongue all day. _Did you-_ Reluctantly, she pulls away a little, just enough to look up at him. He looks miserable. _Have you made a decision?_

 

He nods stiffly, and she feels him tensing against her. _Yeah. Ain't goin' up there._

 

The last few days have been draining, the nights spent mostly sleepless. Ever since Daryl got a phone call from the police, informing him that his brother had been involved in a car accident up in Indiana. He'd been the only living family member they could track down, and she still remembers Daryl's face so vividly that it sends a rush of chills down her spine.

 

His face had fallen, eyes distant, knuckles white around the phone, lips quivering as his entire body shook. Since then, one question lingered, unanswered. A decision he'd been too upset to make, but has made now.

 

_Okay._ Carol nods, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. She expects him to stay quiet, to seek solace in the silence of her embrace. These last two days, he has barely consulted in her, and she feels far from angry. Despite the fact that they have improved so much over the past few months, communicating about their problems, she understands that this is a decision he has to make alone, a weight she can not help him carry.

 

_He wouldn't have wanted them ta call me, not after he just up an' left,_ Daryl mutters, and she's surprised, eyes fixed on his. _'s him who left, I ain't gonna come after him._ Anger simmers beneath the surface, and his grasp on her waist tightens just a bit, enough for her to counteract with soothing circles of her thumb against his temple. _I'll call them doctors in a few days, see how he's doin'. But I ain't drivin' all the way up there just to-_

 

He sounds bitter, his body shaking. One hand slips from her waist to grab the counter behind her for a second before Daryl steps away from her entirely.

 

_I understand,_ Carol reassures him, making no move at first to breach the distance he put between them. But when he does nothing but stare down at his socked feet, she feels panic rising quickly inside of her. _Are you okay?_ she asks quietly, reaching out just enough to brush a hand cautiously over his forearm.

 

_Fine,_ he presses, swatting her hand away and turning on his heels. Carol takes a deep, calming breath, reminding herself of the severity of this decision. After all these years of not knowing why exactly his brother left, where he went or if he's even still alive, it comes with a great sacrifice to turn down the chance to see him again

 

_All right._ She watches him wiping the counter for a moment, fighting the terrible urge to help him. There's little she can do, but she can't help her next words, needing him to know that she'll support him no matter what choice he makes. _But if you change your mind, I'll be fine with the kids, you can go up-_

 

_Ain't goin'._ His interruption is gruff and angry and he marches out of the kitchen in just a few strides. The thudding of his feet against the stairs fills the quiet, a stark contrast to the distant chatter of her children in the living room.

 

 

 

Daryl has not said much since their conversation in the kitchen, and Carol has been patient in giving him his space to breathe all evening. Over and over she reminds herself that she can only grasp at straws here. She never knew Merle personally and Daryl has only offered few memories to share with her. It pains him to even mention his older brother, and so the man has become a phantom.

 

Exhausted, she slips into bed, relishing in the softness of the sheets and the warmth under the blanket. Daryl has his back to her, but she can tell that he's not yet asleep – his breathing slightly ragged and too sharp, his arms too tense.

 

Still, she turns to switch off the light, encasing them in darkness. Moonlight filters in through a crack in the curtain, but it is too soon for her eyes to have adjusted.

 

Without hesitating, she scoots closer to him, encouraged when he makes no move to push her away. Pressing her palm between his shoulder blades, she leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. _You're not okay,_ she whispers. It's not a question, not anymore.

 

_Never thought I'd get a chance to see him again._ His voice sounds bleak and the sound of it terrifies her. It's almost like he is slipping away, fading slowly underneath her touch. She curls her arm around him, grasping his hand, tucking herself against his back. _Never thought I wanted ta._

 

_You miss him,_ she soothes, running her thumb against the back of his hand.

 

It takes a minute before Daryl manages a weak not, and she can hear him swallowing deftly in the silence. _Thing is, I was fine with what he did. Leavin'. Never cared about what he did that_ made _him leave._ He sucks in a shuddering breath, clutching her hand against his stomach now. _Kinda made up for all the shit he_ didn't _do when we were kids. He'd always leave and come back. Until..._ Carol feels numb when his voice breaks, a silent sob wrecking him. _Was always sure he ain't ever comin' back._

 

Suddenly, he shifts, turning around but keeping her hand firmly plastered to his body. In the darkness, Carol can barely make out more than his silhouette as he faces her. Moonlight illuminates trails of tears, shimmering in the midnight blue darkness.

 

_Hey, shh,_ she whispers, pulling herself closer, slipping one leg between his until no space remains between them. She can't possibly look at him now with her face buried in the crook of his neck, and it's a conscious decision. In her arms, he is falling apart, and it would wreck him to know she witnessed each and every fracture of his soul.

 

_He just left, ya know?_ The sobs are evident now, tears disfiguring his words. Helplessly, she hums against his neck, feels the tears trailing down his face and dropping onto her shoulder. _One night he was there, next mornin' he was gone. All his shit was, too. Left a fuckin' note. Just said 'don't fuck it up, little brother'._ Recalling those times tears at him, and Carol understands what it must cost him to finally share. _Was his choice. He sure as hell never asked me what I wanted._ Bitterness and anger melt into the defeat and anguish of having been left behind. _Never cared 'bout that his whole life. But I get to make my own fuckin' choice now._ Carol nods softly against him, pressing her lips to his shoulder. _Don't wanna see him again. But..._

 

She gives him a minute to collect himself, to swallow the sobs and allow his tears to dry. _It's okay,_ she whispers, curling her fingers even tighter around him, hoping that maybe it is enough to ground him.

 

Daryl nods, craning his neck to kiss the top of her head. It's a sweet sign of gratitude and she smiles softly against his skin, reaching up with her free hand to blindly wipe away stray tears.

 

_Never had any family 'cept Merle,_ Daryl whispers, his voice still quivering. _Now I've got you and the kids, I ain't lettin' him anywhere near ya._ His determination shows not only in his voice but in the way he curls himself around her. _Ain't gonna drag you into this._

 

Their conversation in the park all those months ago echoes in her mind, the confession he'd made. The horror he'd trusted her with. Then, she'd been overwhelmed. Now, she understands. And because she does, she's afraid he's making his choice for all the wrong reasons. No matter what his brother did all those years ago, it's in the past with nothing left to prove it.

 

_You don't have to stay away from him because of us,_ she reassures Daryl, pulling away a little to look up at him. Eyes having adjusted a little to the darkness, she sees the moonlight reflect in his eyes along with the unbearably sad determination.

 

_Him leavin', that was the one good thing Merle ever did._ A small noise escapes the back of her throat, surprised and weak, when he presses a kiss to her lips. _I ain't gonna fuck it up._

 

He falls asleep quickly in her arms then, his breathing turning even, and she strokes a hand up and down his back until she's too tired to keep it up. Until sleep claims her, too.

 

**one year.**

 

_Text me when you get home, okay?_ With her arms crossed in front of her chest, Carol casts a worried look up at the sky. A thick layer of dark gray clouds hangs low, rain drumming down and puddling on the road. Thunder roars in the near distance, lightening illuminating the deserted street every now and then.

 

Judith does not seem to be bothered by the noise or the cool chill at all, sleeping peacefully in her carrier. Rick keeps her close to him, gently rocking the handle back and forth, his free hand fumbling with the car keys.

 

_I will,_ Lori reassures her, smiling kindly. She looks tired, but not in the same way she has before Judith was born. It's rooted less deeply now, does not gloss over her eyes. Relief has taken its place. _Thank you for the cake._

 

Daryl snorts by her side, one of his hands pressing gently against her back, right between her shoulder blades. The warmth of his touch is a welcome contrast to the storm that lashes at her skin, and she can't help but laugh softly. _Oh God, thank_ you _for taking some. It was that or eat it all by myself tonight._

 

Carl giggles a little at that, nose scrunching up when the wind shifts and cold rain begins to soak the back of his jeans, unprotected by his rain coat. Still, he waves at Sophia who is standing in the hallway behind them, her brother propped against her hip. With a beaming smile, she adjusts the birthday hat on his small head, grasping his hand and aiding him in waving back. He picks up quickly enough, flailing his arm without his sister's assistance.

 

_I'll see you on Friday,_ Lori promises with a faint smile directed at the children before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Carol's cheek.

 

_Bye,_ Carol says, grasping her friend's arm. Thunder tears through the evening air once more and she pulls away, not very eager to spend anymore time out here in the cold, damp wind. She directs a smile at Rick, seeing Daryl nod at him from her peripheral vision.

 

_Bye, Carol,_ he says, dropping the car key into Lori's hand before turning away.

 

Carol and Daryl watch for another minute as the Grimes rush down the driveway to their car, nearly soaked to the bone by the time they scramble inside. One last wave through the foggy car window and they are gone, the car moving slowly down the nearly flooded road.

 

Making an annoyed sound that reminds her of a displeased dog, Daryl slams the door shut.

 

Sophia has already taken her brother out of the cold gust of wind and into the warm coziness of the living room, Carol notices as she turns around and drops her shoulders against the closed door.

 

Looking down at herself, she eyes the green stain on her blouse with disdain, courtesy of her son who'd thought the frosting of his birthday cake would be better suited as finger paint. _Little artist, this one, Daryl_ had chuckled and pushed the cake out of their son's reach and practically right into the eager mouths of the other children.

 

_God, I'm tired,_ she sighs now, eyes drifting shut as a content smile ghosts over her lips despite the fatigue that has clawed itself into her bones.

 

_Yeah,_ Daryl agrees, craning his neck until a popping noise sends shivers down Carol's spine. He thuds against the door by her side, his hand reaching for hers and intertwining their fingers. It seems like an odd moment to hold hands and Carol gazes down between them, still smiling before looking up at Daryl with raised eyebrows.

 

He looks innocent for all but one second before they both burst out laughing, the sound fading when Carol leans up onto her toes and kisses him.

 

 

 

_Goodnight, sweetie,_ Carol whispers, pressing a kiss to Sophia's forehead and brushing a few stray strands of hair away with the tips of her fingers. She is already a few feet away from the bed, the room cast in a warm, summery glow from the spinning paper lamp on the bedside table, when her daughter's voice pulls her back.

 

_Mommy?_

 

_Yes?_ Looking down a Sophia, she is surprised to see her daughter lost in thought, chewing her bottom lips and tugging nervously at the patchwork blanket covering her. Carol sinks back down onto the chair, carefully moving the fairytale book she'd been reading to Sophia down onto the ground.

 

_Are you and Daryl going to get married?_ Sophia asks then, her eyes beaming with curiosity.

 

The question catches Carol off guard and she takes a few second to gather herself, resting her palms in her lap. _What makes you think that?_

 

_I was just wondering,_ Sophia shrugs, following the outline of a knitted flower on her blanket.

 

Carol smiles softly at her daughter, wondering how long she's been chewing on this question. _Do you want us to?_

 

Sophia begins to nod but then shakes her head instead, a brief and rugged movement that seemingly implies neither yes nor no. _I want you to be happy, Mommy,_ she eventually mutters quietly, and Carol feels her heart swelling painfully in the confines of her ribcage when Sophia reaches out and takes her hand.

 

_I_ am _happy, sweetheart,_ she reassures her, tears blurring hr vision slightly. She blinks them away and smiles instead, grasping Sophia's small, soft hand and kissing it. _And who knows, maybe Daryl will ask me one day._

 

They both giggle a little at that and Carol is amazed that this is real. That she gets to hold her daughter's hand and see genuine joy in her eyes. Can feel genuine joy in her own heart. She does not even think for a second about the one conversation her and Daryl had about marriage. It's a moment light as a feather, as sweet as honey, and she nearly tumbles over laughing when Sophia bites her lip and whispers in a hushed tone. _You could ask him._

 

_I could,_ Carol mouths over a struggling exhale that tries hard to be a laughter, and the mere idea of it is enough to have her stomach flutter in excitement. As their breathing calms, she eventually drops her daughter's hand down onto the bed, kissing her cheek. _Now go to sleep, it's been a long day._

 

With one last glance at Sophia – whose eyes are already drifting shut – Carol makes her way to the door. It's halfway open and she freezes for a second when she spots Daryl standing there in the hallway, face oddly twisted into an expression she can't quite read. Something stuck between shock, curiosity, amusement and hope. It's not at all bad, but she nervously looks down at her feet when she steps out of the room and quietly shuts the door.

 

_You heard that?_ she asks despite already knowing the answer, staring down at their matching-socks-clad feet only inches apart. Daryl bumps his toes into hers then and she looks up in surprise. He's nodding to at least confirm her suspicion, but he's also grinning and the weight she suddenly felt lifts off her heart.

 

They are quiet when they make their way to the bedroom, both tired and weary and Carol almost expects him to drop the matter completely. But just as she moves to the vanity table to take off her earrings, Daryl’s words fill the silence.

 

_So, you gonna propose to me now?_

 

She turns and looks at him with big eyes, her fingers frozen around her small pearl earring. His face is blank for a few seconds, full of expectations, but then he laughs, deep and heartily and it roars in his chest, and Carol can't help but join in. It ripples through her entire body, down her spine and through the sinews of her arms and legs.

 

She all but collapses into Daryl’s arms. It's freeing to let her joy take control of her body like this, to feel its effects in waves that tingle like small bouts of electricity. Daryl vibrates against her, his arms enclosing her, and it's almost as good as being happy herself to hear him unfold like this. To witness him letting go of all the inhibitions he has about being happy. He shakes off all fears of it not lasting. The grin that spreads his lips tickles the skin of her neck and she cherishes that.

 

Slowly, they calm down, their breathing turning from ragged to even. Still, they are wrapped up in one another, each giving the other support. The last echo of their laughter dies when Daryl turns her head with one hand, nudging his nose against hers almost questioningly. She nods, slightly confused, before he closes the gap and presses a soft, gentle, fluttering kiss to her lips.

 

For all its sweetness, it stirs a fire in her belly that she struggles to hold back. All that gives it away is a small noise that bubbles up from her throat, and her fingers dig a little deeper into his back. With a sigh, Daryl pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers and swiping his thumb soothingly along her flushed cheek.

 

_You want me to ask?_ he whispers, the question thick in the small space between them. Carol imagines it then, allows herself to wonder for a minute, and she is surprised when the idea does not birth as much fear as it used to.

 

Still, she shakes her head ever so slightly, humming her explanation almost inaudibly. _Not tonight._ There is a promise woven into the words, a seal for the future. A big step of courage for herself.

 

Initiating the kiss this time, she curls her arms around Daryl’s neck, her heels lifting off the ground as he pulls her flush against him. The kiss is deeper, still slow but filled with more than just nervous adoration. When they part, Carol feels her neck and chest flushed and the fire from before beginning to lick in her veins. But another thought suddenly pops into her head, brought on by the sweet taste of frosting on Daryl's tongue.

 

_Want to have leftover cake in bed?_ she asks with a grin, clasping her hands at the base of Daryl’s skull and looking up at him hopefully.

 

His eyes darken almost instantly, a thought ghosting through them that makes her hungry for something else entirely. _Can think of a few other things I want,_ Daryl mutters under his breath before his lips are slanting over hers once more. She yelps when he lifts her off the ground easily, and her mind goes blank the second her back hits the mattress.

 

He peels off her clothes slowly, caressing each newly exposed inch of her skin. The swell of her breasts, her sore arms littered in white lines, the softness of her stomach, the stretch marks on her hips, the scar that stretches low on her abdomen, the insides of her thigh, the backs of her knees, the jut of her ankles. It's torturous and she barely wills away tears of frustration, clawing her hands into his hair and holding on to him as he feathers kisses all over her quivering skin.

 

She falls over the edge with a silent cry that gives way to a content sigh when she pulls him up and kisses him just as slowly as everything he has done so far, tasting herself on his lips. The bareness of his own skin against hers, coarser and warmer, tingles against her raw nerves and he settles easily into the cradle of her thighs, whimpering in the back of his throat when she guides him inside of her.

 

It's all slow strokes after that, hands that cling to sweaty, trembling skin, names that are breathed against parted lips. Her legs and arms circle around him, hold him impossibly close, smiling up at him when he props himself on his elbows. She mouths his favorite three words, words he took forever to accept, and he replies in kind, gathering her in his arms and pulling her up into his lap.

 

When he comes inside of her, she feathers kisses along his throat, rests her head against his chest to listen to his raggedly beating heart. His own fingers trail the ridges of her spine, settling against her tailbone.

 

_Still want that cake?_ he raps into her ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. Carol is sure he can feel the shudder that runs through her body, but she only bumps her fist into his ribs gently.

 

_I can't believe you even have to ask._

 

**the end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody is more surprised that I wrote a sequel for this story than me, trust me. I never wanted to continue it because I felt like I told the story that I wanted to tell. But then I suddenly had this overwhelming urge to continue their story, and so I spent the last day and a half writing this.
> 
> One note on their son's name: I decided not to mention the name back when I finished the main story because I find it hard to find a name they would give their son and because I did not want to ruin anyone's experience of reading the story by choosing a name you don't like. Same reasons apply here.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this little dose of fluff :)


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